In Repair
by mollybugs
Summary: Before Angelina Johnson and George Weasley were George and Angelina Weasley, they had a lot of healing to do.  This is the story of two hearts broken by war and how they built each other back up.  Based on J.K. Rowling's statements.  Please read & review
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Nothing in this chapter or any following chapter is my property.

**Author's note:** For those of you who read my other story "Sorry," I hope you will enjoy this new work. I like to think that it is just a little less depressing than much of "Sorry" and that it is certainly full of hope, because it's based on known statements from J.K. Rowling about the futures of characters, so you know it has a happy ending. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated.

**Chapter 1**

Angelina Johnson was standing in an unfamiliar kitchen. A microwave clock told her it was half past seven. She hadn't noticed much of what she was seeing the night before. She hadn't seen the photos of world famous sites scattered across the walls of the kitchen. She hadn't noticed the lovely teak finish of the simple but beautiful dining table in the middle of the room. She hadn't even realized the walls were a light sky blue, nor had she taken in the modern Muggle appliances with their stainless steel finishes.

It was a comfortable kitchen, one that showed its use but was kept up well. It was part of a small rowhouse that was clearly lived in. Dirty clothes overflowed from a hamper at the entrance of the small laundry room; books and magazines sat in messy but confined piles around the adjacent living room. She wondered that she never noticed these things until she was leaving.

It always hit her the morning after. When they were leading her up to their bedrooms or taking her right there on their simple teak dining tables, they were only a face, an escape. When she woke early enough to slip out unnoticed, she always saw that she'd been with a real person, someone who had a life, interests, and hobbies. She didn't know if they deserved to be used the way she used them. Nobody really deserved that, she supposed, but it was too late to turn back now. She'd done the damage, and she was going to walk away from it.

She quickly peeked to make sure that the handsome ginger bloke she'd gone home with hadn't stirred yet and then Disapparated with a soft pop. Back in her flat, she quickly stripped off last night's outfit and climbed into her shower. She leaned her head against the cool tile wall and let her tears mingle with the shower water falling over her face. Her return home always felt bittersweet—she'd gotten the escape she'd wanted for a brief while, but it was always followed by a mixture of regret and anger and shame.

It had been over a year since the Battle of Hogwarts had taken place. In a few days she would turn twenty-three. Her friends would take her out on the town for a birthday celebration. They would all laugh and joke and have a merry time, all pretending that they had recovered and were happy once again. Sometimes Angelina wasn't sure if they were even still pretending. Katie and Alicia seemed to be getting on just fine. Katie had even begun dating Oliver Wood after he'd admitted to a long-time crush on her. She knew Lee wasn't always fine, but he spent enough time with Alicia to keep his mind off things when he was down. Sometimes she felt that she was the only one who wasn't recovering. She knew better though. She didn't see much of George, but when he did join them, he wasn't really there.

She stepped out of the shower, dressed comfortably and climbed into her bed. She knew that she wasn't helping herself get better. Going home with the first handsome bloke that called you pretty and complimented your laugh wasn't going to take any pain away. But it took it away for a night. Her friends didn't know about it—she only did it every now and then, when she couldn't stand being alone anymore. Katie had once asked her if she needed to talk, but she had turned her down. Instead she found solace in sex, numbing her mind to reality for just a night.

She didn't want to talk to anyone; not Katie, not Alicia. She just wanted to forget. Try as she might, she found it impossible to do so. It felt like she would go on like this forever, not facing the facts and trying to erase the memory of Fred's death with other nameless men. She only wanted those few bittersweet moments when, in the throes of drunken pleasure, she could forget that he was gone and let the physical pleasure trick her into thinking she was having a good time.

It might hit her like a brick wall in the morning when she remembered so keenly that he was gone, but she wanted to find escape, even for those moments.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Two days later Angelina was sitting in a café at the end of Diagon Alley, her mind in a book. She hadn't always been a reader, but it gave her something to do in her free time. After the war she had begun working as a Quidditch correspondent for the Prophet, so she had plenty of free time to fill in between matches. She'd taken up reading as a something to do during the day – it sometimes helped to take her mind off things, but only sometimes. She had become a fan of historical books and fiction, though she avoided romance like the plague. As she turned the page a dark shadow cast over her book. She squinted up at the backlit figure in front of her table.

"Hello George," she said quietly. She was never quite comfortable around George when he did venture out with the rest of their friends. They had been good friends in school, but now he was quite and distant. He had a permanent shadow over his face like he wasn't fully there. He kept his hair longer than he used to – it was at his shoulders now, slightly unkempt and parted in a way that concealed the missing ear on one side. George took a seat without asking and looked at her.

"Fred always thought you were the prettiest girl in Hogwarts, you know," he said. Angelina put her book down. She didn't want to talk about Fred, especially not with his twin. "Do you miss him? Because I miss him."

She froze. George had never said anything before about his twin brother to her nor to any of their friends. It wasn't something they talked about nor that they were really ready to talk about. How was she supposed to do this? Fred had never really been her boyfriend, but he was one of her best friends, and she had really loved him. They had dated here and there after he'd taken her to the Yule Ball, but never seriously. She had thought they would end up together after the war. How do you compare the loss of that to the loss of twin?

"Yes of course I miss him," she finally whispered.

The young waitress brought over a menu for George when she noticed that he had joined Angelina. George quickly glanced at the menu and pointed out a panini that looked good enough. After handing over the menu, he looked back to Angelina. His chocolate eyes were so terribly like Fred's. They sat in silence, looking at each other. She wondered if he was trying to gauge her grief, to see just how much she missed his brother. Minutes later his order was served. He took a few bites, but mostly he just sat there looking at it.

"You know I didn't really want this. I'm not quite sure why I ordered it. I don't really know why I do much of anything."

Without thinking Angelina reached across the table to grab his hand.

"Would you like to have dinner tonight, George? We can talk about Fred, if you'd like. Or we can just sit and have dinner."

She thought she saw a small smile flash across his lips as he nodded.

That evening they ate dinner in her flat, a simple meal of chicken and potatoes that she'd thrown together. They made small talk about the work she did, how well the shop was going, and the happenings of their friends' lives. There was talk of the recent engagement of his sister to Harry Potter as well as that of Ron and Hermione Granger. There was not any talk of Fred. When George left that evening, Angelina crawled into her bed. Ensconced in blankets, her arms wrapped around a pillow, she fell asleep. Curious, she thought as she dozed off, that George had chosen to come to her. She wondered if he knew she couldn't about it. George hadn't really wanted to talk about it at all.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Hello Readers! I hope you like the story. If you do, PLEASE leave me a review telling what you like about it! That way I can know what I'm doing right (or what I'm doing wrong). I would love to know what you think about it!

**Chapter 3**

As Angelina had expected, she got an owl from Katie the morning after her dinner with George. Katie's post offered detailed plans for her birthday: she would be picked up by Alicia and Lee the upcoming Thursday evening and taken to her party at an undisclosed location. Angelina grimaced as she set the note down on her kitchen table. She had two days to put on her happy face—the one she put on around her friends when they needed her to be better, to be healed like them. She sat at her table and held the cup of tea she'd made herself when she woke up. She supposed it wouldn't hurt to have one evening of fun with her friends.

Two nights later, she wasn't so sure. Lee and Alicia had picked her up as promised and taken her to a nice pub in London that wizards and witches frequented. From the outside it was a pet shop in a strip shopping center that had been closed down years ago. Inside, it was a large pub with plenty of seating and room for the occasional live music. Katie, George, and Oliver waited for her in the back corner of the pub underneath a banner that read "Happy Birthday, Angelina!" that was charmed to set off little fireworks around it. When she arrived and saw how hard her friends had tried for her, Angelina couldn't help but smile. She caught George's eye for a split second and saw that he was smiling too.

She went through the motions of celebration and obliged her friends with laughter and smiles when called upon for photos or stories. A cake was brought out and she blew out the candle. As she made her wish, she closed her eyes and tuned out her surroundings. It wasn't a wish that would ever come true, but it would always be the first that came to mind.

After a few hours and many rounds she was left to herself as Lee and Oliver dragged their girls toward the dance floor. She was grateful for a respite from all the excitement. As the night progressed her enjoyment became more of a façade that took more and more effort to keep up. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the booth she was sitting in. After a few moments she heard someone clearing their throat. She opened her eyes to see that George, having just returned from the bar, was holding two pints in his hands. He set one in front of her as he slid into the booth. She thanked him and smiled after she had a sip. He had remembered that she enjoyed a good cider more than beer.

They sat together without speaking for a short while; each stared, engrossed with consuming the beverage before them. Angelina's mind was racing. Thoughts that she always kept to herself were clawing at her tongue, begging her to escape. Suddenly she wanted so much to say things to George that she thought she would never be able to admit, even to herself. She knew that he would understand what she going through, but she didn't know if would want to hear it.

"I felt guilty," he said, interrupting her internal struggle. She was a bit taken aback. Had he been dealing with the same difficulty as she had? "On our birthday, I mean." Angelina nodded. She felt a morbid comfort in the knowledge that George felt the same way she was feeling tonight.

"It's not really fair is, it?" she asked. He'd opened the door, and the combination of alcohol and sadness meant she wouldn't close it. "I mean, here we are getting older every year and Fred only made it to twenty. I feel awful celebrating it."

George nodded grimly and took a large sip that finished off his pint. He glanced at Angelina's glass, which was nearly empty, and went back to the bar for two more pints. She watched the way he stood nervously at the bar, leaning against it for support. She could see that he was just as anxious as her, just as terrified to talk about his brother, but she wasn't going to fight it. These feelings were clawing their way out of the both of them whether they were ready or not.

"You were there for my birthday party, right?" he said as he set another pint in front of her, having regained enough of his composure to return. "It was bloody awful. My mum kept going on about how proud Fred would be of me keeping the shop going and how much he would have enjoyed the party. It was downright cruel to have to suffer through that. I love my mum, but the woman wouldn't give it up."

Angelina's lips twitched. She wanted to smile at this. The amount of love that Molly Weasley showed her children was enough to make anyone smile.

"Your mum means well," she said. "It can't be easy on her."

George nodded. They sat in silence again, not sure where to go from there. Angelina looked over to the dance floor. The music had slowed; both Katie and Alicia had their arms wrapped around their boys' shoulders, heads leaning on their chests as they swayed. She caught a glimpse of Katie's face. Her eyes were closed and her lips formed the most contented smile she'd ever seen. It was no wonder that her friends had been able to heal so quickly. Neither of them had lost the one person in the world that made them smile that stupid, silly smile.

Angelina slumped slightly in her seat and polished off the rest of her pint. She stared at the wall, suddenly miserable and uncomfortable in this bar. George tossed back the last of his drink and set his glass down loudly on the table, drawing her out of her reverie.

"Let's get out of here, Ange. I'd say this isn't quite our scene like it used to be." He stood up and grabbed her coat, not giving her much of a choice. Not that it was necessary—she was more than ready to leave.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Here is chapter 4, hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think in a review!

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Rather than drunkenly splinch themselves, they had used the Floo at the back of the pub after saying quick goodbyes and thanks to the dancing couples and party planners. Angelina had been surprised to hear George shouting her address behind her, but she didn't linger on it. She was too focused on not losing her dinner and cake in transit.

She had just steadied herself when the fire spit George out at her and sent her stumbling into her couch. She landed with a flop at the end of her sofa. She sat there, drunk and slightly rigid in her coat, staring at her shoes with a look that said they ought to remove themselves. George stood by the fireplace for a moment, awkward and unsure of what he was doing there. Finally he settled himself on the other end of the couch and looked over at Angelina. She had begun kicking her shoes off and sliding out of her coat, so he followed suit. Angelina slouched into the sofa and sighed. She was exhausted; she was far too tired to try to pretend to be okay.

"Sometimes I hate your brother," she said quietly as she folded her feet beneath her and nestled into her couch. "I absolutely hate him. He was so damn arrogant, so certain that I'd be there when he was done chasing Death Eaters and fighting for the bloody cause. That I'd wait for him to finally man up and settle down with me. He was so fucking sure that he had all the time in the world to be with me."

George stared at her intently, not quite sure how to respond to this. He'd always known that Angelina and Fred had cared about each other. He thought back to the fateful day in May when he lost his brother. As they'd been walking through the tunnel to sneak into Hogwarts, he'd seen Fred pull a photo from his cloak. He had given Angelina's smiling face one last look before charging through to fight the final fight.

"I don't think he knew how much he loved you until it was too late."

Angelina laughed a throaty, caustic laugh.

"Of course not. That's how it goes, doesn't it? The tragic romance. We wait around forever for our men to grow some stones and admit that they love us, and then it's all cut short. Your brother was a bloody fool. Did you know that before the battle, he asked me on a date? He told me that when it was all over, he was taking me out for dinner. Such a bloody arrogant arse. We were in the fight of our lives and he had the gall to ask me on a date. A bloody date! He said, 'Angelina, love of my life, I'm taking you out on the town when we get done here.' The nerve of him, the cheeky bastard!"

Angelina knew that she had started crying, but she didn't stop.

"I absolutely hate him for it, and all the same I love him for it. That was what I loved about him. He was such a bloody prick, so cocky and presumptuous. He knew that I was mad for him, and he just kept me waiting, certain I wouldn't go anywhere. And now I'm always going to be waiting." She sobbed as she spoke the last sentence, knowing all too well that she would always be waiting for the day when she would see Fred again and have that date at last.

George reached over and pulled her closer to him. He put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her on the side of her head. He turned his body so that his back molded into the corner of the couch and she was able to lean comfortably on his chest. Her tears began to darken his shirt. With his free hand he reached up and wiped his own eyes. He was in a painful situation—unable to console her, but grotesquely comforted that he had finally found commiseration in his grief. He had begun to feel angry towards his family. They were all moving on. It seemed so easy for them to talk about Fred like he was just another memory. How much Fred would enjoy this, or how wonderful that time with Fred was, the sort of joke that Fred might have made at this time or that. George felt like he was the only person left in his family still walking around with a gaping hole in their heart. It was rotten of him, but he took comfort in having another person that felt as miserable as he did.

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Angelina opened her eyes to the sun and jumped. Beneath her another body stirred. She was looking at her own fireplace. Had she gone mad and actually brought some bloke back to her flat? Mortified, she sneaked a peek at whoever she'd just been snuggled up against.

George Weasley. Of course! She remembered that her birthday party, really just an excuse for Katie and Alicia to pretend like life was okay again, had ended with George following her back here. Had she really broken down on him? She chastised herself for letting him see her so profoundly vulnerable. She'd been careful not to let anyone in on the fact that she was deeply brokenhearted. He stirred again and she straightened her body to distance herself from him.

"What time izzit?" he mumbled.

"Half eight," she quickly replied after a glance at her clock. She practically jumped off the couch when he began to sit up. She began to straighten the couch cushions. His hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to the couch to sit. He was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the other hand.

"Listen," he said groggily. "I know what you're doing. It's the same thing my mum does when she doesn't want to talk about something. So stop it."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, trying to play it off like she hadn't been avoiding something.

"Don't be coy, Angelina. You're probably feeling about how I felt after I left your flat the other night. Embarrassed that I'd let you see through my rather carefully constructed wall."

Angelina sat down as far from him on the couch as she possibly could, her arms folded in front of her. He was right, though she hated to admit it.

"I know it might sound horrible," George continued, "but it's kind of nice to know someone knows how I feel. I've been a zombie for the past year and a half with nobody to talk to. My family is all moving on. My friends are all moving on. But you aren't. And it's kind of nice, in a sick, sad way, to be able to be around someone who knows how I feel."

Angelina relaxed her arms. She was so embarrassed about her wretched crying last night, but he was actually glad about it. She couldn't hate him for it—she had been glad when he'd spoken up at the pub the night before.

"Well I suppose I'm glad you can be glad about my misery, if I can be glad about your misery," she said, laughing pitifully.

George pulled her across the couch and wrapped his arms around her. He hugged her so tightly that she felt she could let all her walls down if she could feel this secure forever.

He released her, and with a peck on the cheek, he said goodbye before Disapparating. She headed into her bedroom with her mind in a fog, not really sure what to make of what her life was turning into. She reached into the drawer of her nightstand and pulled out an old photo. She looked down at the smiling faces as they waved back her: herself in a deep purple gown, Fred in his dress robes. The Yule Ball had been the start of their constant wavering on the line of friends and lovers. It hadn't been a model relationship, but whatever the hell it had been, it was still the only love she'd known. She set the picture down on the nightstand. Maybe she wouldn't hide how much that hurt her anymore.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Sorry if it's been a while, but here's more! Happy new year, and please review!

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George Weasley sat in the back of his shop in the dark and stared at the wall. Ron had come into the shop to offer a helping hand, and George was taking full advantage of it. Between Ron and the cashier George had hired after the war, things were running smoothly enough for him to sulk in the stockroom. As much as he disliked the sometimes overbearing optimism of his younger brother, he was grateful that he had showed up today. He absolutely hated being in the shop by himself.

He listened to the chime of the cash register and the buzz of customers. Children laughed outrageously at the toys that exploded into dust right in front of their faces and the tiny toy dragons that breathed fire and did flips in the air. After a long period of time he realized that he could hear Ron closing up the shop. The bell above the door rang as the last customers exited with their purchases. Marin, the shopgirl, called goodbye to him from the front of the shop before Disapparating.

"Quite a busy day for the shop," Ron said cheerfully as he brought the till into the back room. "Blimey, George, can you even see anything back here?" He waved his wand and brought the lights up in the room.

"Didn't notice, thanks," George muttered. He had been leaning against a wall with his feet propped on the lower rung of a stepstool. He pushed the stool away and stood up. "You don't mind counting that up, do you?"

"Course not," Ron said. "Oy, before I forget, Hermione wants you to come over for dinner sometime. Thinks you need the company. She said she'll even make your favorite meal, whatever that is. Doesn't really matter, honestly, we'll end up with burnt bricks of food anyhow. She tries, she does, but she doesn't quite have a talent for…what's the word? Domesticity. Besides, things are a bit hectic these days with the wedding planning and all."

"Well then, Ronnie, it's a good thing domesticity isn't something you really need when you're one of the brightest witches there is. Tell Hermione I thank her but I'm busy."

"I didn't even tell you a day!" Ron said, but George was already gone.

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A few days later, George called on Angelina to have dinner with him after he closed the shop. They enjoyed a meal at a Muggle restaurant near his flat.

"So how is the shop faring these days?" she asked between bites. He paused his chewing for a moment. He vacillated for a moment between the perfunctory answer and the truth.

"It's making good money. Ron helps out quite a bit. I think he's too stressed by all of Hermione's wedding planning. She's being very Hermione-like about this whole wedding thing. Every little detail counts. I think I might shut it down though, maybe move on, maybe try something new."

Angelina stared at him in awe. He and Fred had been planning that joke shop as long as she'd ever known them, but she avoided pointing that out to him.

"Why on earth would you that if it's making so much money? I may be a bit out of touch lately but even I hear people talk about what a booming business you've got."

"I rather hate being in there, to be honest," he said. "Everywhere I turn, there is Fred. I'm constantly surrounded by him. It feels like half of me is gone, and I can physically feel the emptiness, but at the same time I'm surrounded by him. It's impossible to do every day. Some days I just sit in the dark in the back room and stare at the walls so I don't have to look at all his bloody inventions."

Angelina set down her fork and listened to him. What was there to say to that? She supposed that sitting in the dark was a bit better than what she had been doing to avoid thinking about Fred, but she wasn't about to say that to George. He didn't need to know that. After a long silence, George smiled a small mournful smile. He made a comment about the Muggle family across the restaurant and how bizarrely the children were dressed. They forced their way through small talk about Muggles and their surroundings as they finished their meals. They continued talking on the walk back to her flat about everything from politics to the upcoming wedding of Hermione and Ron, but their conversation never turned to Fred again. It was apparent to Angelina that as much as they both welcomed someone to commiserate with, neither was entirely comfortable with this newfound honesty.


	6. Chapter 6

**Since it's a new year and these two chapters are so short, I'm posting them at the same time! Happy new year and I hope you leave some reviews!**

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Over the next two months, Angelina spent more and more time with George. He would call on her to have dinner after work most nights, where they would share the details of their days and bemoan their daily responsibilities. Sometimes he accompanied her to Quidditch matches that she reported on, often placing bets on which team would win. Being the professional Quidditch reporter, Angelina won these bets more often than not. They went grocery shopping with each other, she brought him lunch at work, and slowly but surely, they helped each other back towards normal life.

A few days before Christmas, Angelina woke up and realized that she was actually felt alright. She didn't wake up dreading the day, and she didn't look at the picture of herself and Fred with sadness. She looked at it with a sort of calm. It was overwhelming. She felt like she should want to cry, to throw the picture away, but instead she set it back on her nightstand and went to take a shower.

She didn't talk much about Fred to George still, nor did he have much to say. Instead, they enjoyed each other's company and used their friendship to move on. There were times when Angelina wanted to say something, to thank him or to talk about a memory of Fred, but she usually caught herself. She found that she was afraid of bringing up misery that might kill their momentum and throw them back into their funks. She wasn't sure when she'd realized it, but she knew that they had both needed that catharsis in the beginning, to cry and curse their loss, but it wasn't something they needed every day. So much of what they needed was to find a way to live their lives from day to day.

She spent Christmas with her family, and he with his. New Year's Eve rolled around, and naturally her friends had to ring it in with a bang. Katie almost fell out of her chair when George actually offered to provide fireworks for her and Oliver's shindig. It was meant to be a classy affair—they all put on their pretty dresses and snazzy suits and toasted champagne to the year 2001.

"You and George have been spending quite a bit of time together," Katie commented to Angelina as they poured themselves drinks in her kitchen shortly after Angelina arrived with George. "I'm glad to see it. I'm really glad you seem to be getting on well." Angelina smiled and took the drink that Katie poured for her.

The night began with the air of class they'd strived for, but soon became an evening of drunken shenanigans. The boys entertained themselves with jokes while the girls giggled. There would be photos in the morning that they'd all want to be rid of, but none of them would forget when Oliver climbed on top of Lee's shoulders and ended up floating upside down when he tried to stop his fall with a spell.

When midnight struck, they lit up the sky with the fireworks George had brought from the store. It was the most fun Angelina had had in a long time. She fell asleep on Katie's couch sometime near four in the morning, nestled under the crook of George's arm with a drunken smile across her face.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Here is Ch 7, it's a little short but a good one in my opinion :) Hope you like it and can leave me a review!**

One weekend late in January, George accompanied Angelina to a Quidditch match she was reporting on. They both cheered on Puddlemere and shared celebratory drinks with Oliver and his team after their nail-biting victory. She watched as George fell right in with the team and enjoyed seeing him put on the male bravado that most men wear in large groups of their own sex. She was thrilled when the captain of the team sat down next to her and started talking about the match. She listened keenly—what other reporter was going to have a first-person account of the match for their editor in the morning? She was grateful she had one of those handy Quick Quills for note taking. She barely had time to take in what he was saying—the alcohol was slurring his already heavy Scottish accent.

Later on, as the evening winded down, Angelina sat back against the bar and watched as George got into a discussion with the team's Beaters. It made her happy to see him so enthusiastic about the conversation. For a moment, she could see the energy that he had once always had. Oliver broke away from his conversation with a few of the other players and settled on the stool next to her.

"I see you fancy yourself a Weasley, do you," he whispered loudly. Angelina leaned back from him.

"Come off it," she said. "George and I are friends. He's been a damn good friend to me the past few months." Oliver chuckled and shook his hands in front of him as if to defend himself.

"If you say so, Johnson. I won't argue with you. I'll tell you though, Katie's awfully glad that you've got someone to spend time with. That woman, I tell you, she cares about you. She's got such a big heart, you know. I can't stand it myself sometimes. She just cares about everyone. I love her, you know. I love her! Ha! It's fantastic, Johnson. She's fantastic. Listen, I'll tell you a secret. Come here. Closer, it's a secret."

Angelina leaned as close to Oliver as she possibly could to entertain his drunken rambling. When she was close enough for him to breathe on her, he opened his mouth to speak.

"I'm gonna ask that woman to marry me. Katie Bell, will you be my wife? That's what I'm going to say to her. I don't know when though. It's got to be the right timing, you know?"

"That's bloody marvelous, Oliver!" she yelled, albeit a bit too close to his ear for his comfort. She wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. "If she says yes, you're a lucky bloke. And she'll say yes, so don't worry."

When George came over to see what the fuss was about, Oliver went into detail about how he'd gotten a lovely ring and was thinking about doing it when Puddlemere made it into the finals.

"How typical of you to make it about Quidditch," Angelina joked. George congratulated Oliver on the impending good news and shook his hand.

"That's fantastic news, Oliver. I'm happy for you, mate. It's that time of night, though," he lamented. "I've got to get myself a few hours of decent sleep, I suppose. Thanks for letting me tag along tonight, it was bloody great. You've got some top notch players on your team." Angelina stood and yawned, indicating that she was just as ready to leave as George. She gave Oliver another hug, something that she hadn't ever done before he'd been dating Katie. If she had ever actually tried to hug him at Hogwarts, he probably would have died from the sheer awkwardness of it all.

"Good man, Weasley. Take care of Johnson, will you?" Oliver slurred as he patted George on the back.

The pair left via Floo—they were too drunk to Apparate but were too far to walk to either of their flats. Once in Angelina's flat, they began to succumb to the alcohol. It's a fascinating phenomenon that often happens when one drinks. One can manage for the most part to remain upright and coherent after as many drinks as Angelina had had, but once in the safety of the home, one lets down the guard and becomes much more of a mess than before. Angelina threw her shoes into a random corner of her flat and began stripping off her clothes on the way to the bedroom. With great struggle she managed to dress herself for sleep. She was just jamming her legs into a pair of backward pajama shorts when George stumbled in. She barely registered that he stripped off his shirt and flopped onto one side of her bed. He was already snoring by the time she crawled in next to him. She took comfort in the presence of a warm body next to hers. As her eyelids drooped and the alcohol quickly dragged her to sleep, she felt herself roll into his warmth; like a reflex, the contact prompted his arm to drape itself over her, pulling her more into the warmth.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN - Hope to get some reviews!**

**Chapter 8**

Angelina woke in the morning to a bright mop of red hair in her face and a heavy arm across her back. She rolled over to read her clock and saw that it was still quite early. She decided to let George sleep a bit before waking him and went to take a shower. When she stepped out of her bathroom, he was gone from the bed. Minutes later when she had dressed herself and pulled her hair back from her face in a ponytail, she went into the kitchen. George stood by her coffee pot with his back to her.

"Thank god, I thought you'd gone and I was doomed to make my own coffee," she joked. George turned around and set a mug in front of her as she sat at the table.

"I can't take over half your mattress and snore like a chimney without paying you back with coffee," he replied. He sat across the table from her with his own cup.

"You know I don't mind. Being drunk makes it especially forgivable. I certainly wouldn't have expected you to suffer through another Floo trip to your own flat. It's hard enough to bear that sober."

They chuckled at the misery that they both knew was drunken Floo travel and drank their coffee. Angelina looked over at George and wondered that he didn't remind her more of his twin. It was odd that they looked so alike, and she'd had enough trouble initially telling them apart, but since she was maybe fifteen she'd always been sure which was which. She had always been sure it had to do with her feelings for Fred. Somehow he had stood out more to her; she always figured that if she did confuse one for another, she'd mistake George for Fred. But now she was looking at George, and for all the physical resemblance, it was clear as day that he was just George.

She glanced at her calendar and saw that it was now three months since they had begun spending time together. A revelation struck her, and before she could even think about it, she opened her mouth.

"Thank you for spending so much time with me lately," she said. "I've been incredibly lonely since the war, and I haven't exactly dealt with it in the healthiest of ways. So I really appreciate that you and I have become good friends again. You're a good friend, George. I haven't felt quite as lonely with you."

"I should say the same," he replied.

**.**

* * *

"Katie, drop it, please."

"But Ange, you can't not tell me anything! I'm your best friend! You're telling me nothing is going on between you two?"

"No! He is my friend! Is it so damn hard to believe that I am just friends with him? "

"Alright, alright, I'll let up. I think it would be good for you though, if maybe he was more than a friend."

"Katie, please. I know you want me to be happy, and being friends with George has brought me a long way. But please don't push it."

"Fine. I will admit you two have brought yourselves out of your shells quite a bit. I'm really glad to see you smile more these days."

Angelina smiled and sipped her tea. She was on her fourth cup. It was a warm afternoon in early June, and she and Katie had been sitting in a café off Piccadilly Circus for the past two hours. They had spent much of the time discussing Katie's recent engagement with Oliver and plans for their wedding. It was when the conversation turned to George that Angelina didn't want to talk much anymore. Katie had the absurd idea that she should become romantically involved with George, and it irked her more than anything. Katie was one of the lucky people who had someone to lean on after the war. Angelina hadn't had the same luck. She'd been alone for the better half of the two years since the war, and now that the second anniversary of Harry Potter's victory at Hogwarts had passed, she was finally starting to feel okay. It was thanks to her friendship with George, she'd readily admit that. Katie was convinced that they spent more time together than most couples, and that they ought to just get on with it.

Angelina was of a different opinion. She certainly couldn't fall in love with the twin brother of her first love. How on earth would that work out? She doubted that George had even thought about it. With a little encouragement from Ron, he'd really put himself back into the shop and was really raking in the money now. When they spent time together, he often fell asleep not shortly after eating dinner at his or her flat, so tired from helping customers all day long that he couldn't even keep awake. She never minded—she visited him at the store plenty and knew how busy it could get.

They had been spending time with each other since October, and now that it was June, they did see each other on a very regular basis. She had taken comfort in George as her friend, her one source of solace when she began to feel lonely and miss Fred. Since he'd spent the night in January after the Puddlemere match, it had become a regular occurrence for them to spend the night at each other's flats. The host would cook a meal and the guest would bring drinks. On occasion they spent the entire night just reading next to each other; other nights they played games and got into heated Quidditch discussions. He had quickly become her best friend and she his.

Angelina stared out the window of the café as Katie prattled on about whether she should get her wedding dress in cream or white. She responded that white would suit Katie's complexion better, but Katie continued to deliberate over the colors. She could never leave well enough alone; with Katie, there was always more to the discussion.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Thanks for the reviews that I have gotten, and I hope you will keep leaving them! This one's a good one, I hope you like it :)**

**Chapter 9**

***

* * *

**

After spending her afternoon with Katie, she had plans with George to visit his family. Only a few weeks had passed since the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, and so George was still quite tense from the stress of it all. Naturally there had been a huge commemoration at Hogwarts. All those who fought in the battle were honored, and so both she and George had stood among their friends while Kingsley Shacklebolt, elected just after the war as Minister of Magic, spoke about the meaning of Harry's victory, the hopes for the new generation of wizards to live in a peaceful word, and of course the memory of those that had given their lives fighting to protect the school and wizarding world.

She had held George's hand for support, partly because she knew he needed it and partly because she wanted it, but she was pretty certain that he hadn't even noticed. His hand had been rigid, just like the rest of his body. She may have helped him come a long way from his bottomless pit of grief, but it wasn't any easier for him being back at the place his brother had died.

Because she knew how hard of time of year it was for George, Molly Weasley tried her best to keep his mind off things the best way she knew how—food. She regularly invited him and 'that lovely girl friend of yours' over for family meals, so he had finally relented and agreed to come.

Angelina left the café and returned to her apartment to change into a comfortable summer dress. She had just enough time to fix her hair up a bit before she had to meet George in Ottery St. Catchpole. The plan was to meet down the road from the Burrow so that they could walk together, but she knew it was also so George could relax himself a bit and walk off the tension. As much as she meant well, Mrs. Weasley had an innate capacity for overbearing love, and it was sometimes more than George could handle.

"You're looking quite summery," he said as she approached him on the corner of the road. "Shall we?"

She linked her arm through his extended arm and they headed down the road.

"Come off it George, you're putting on a good show. It's alright if you're uncomfortable. I know you've been tense lately," she said. She had grown more comfortable in the past few months with talking openly with George about how they felt.

"I'm not uncomfortable, Ange, really," he replied. He skipped a beat before speaking up again. "Alright, maybe a bit, but it's nothing really. It's just that… My mum just won't let up about you holding my hand at the ceremony, and I'm more nervous that you're going to get the overbearing protective Mum treatment."

Angelina felt her face flush. She hadn't realized that George had even noticed her hand holding his. And now he felt the need to protect her from his mum like it had meant anything more than holding her friend's hand. She consciously reminded herself not to react in a way that might give any impression and continued walking with her arm in his.

"I told her she doesn't need to worry, that you and I are just friends," he continued. "She knows that you've helped me through the worst of it, but she can't help but be a mum sometimes."

"Don't worry, George. I've met your mum before. I think I can deflect her mum-ness if I really have to. I'll just tell her that I have no interest in her son and that my real interests lie in shagging strangers."

George laughed.

"That's a good one, Ange. As if you could pull that off. I think that might actually make it worse. My mum knows you're not that type; she'd never believe it."

Memories of nameless blokes roared into her mind. She was waging an internal battle with herself to keep them out. She had never told George about her old methods of mourning, and now it looked like she never could after that remark. George had become her best friend over the past several months, and she had once hoped that she might someday be able to confide in him about the men she had slept with—men she had used to block out his brother's memory. She never had for fear of the same sort of judgment she heard in his voice today.

"What's got you thinking so seriously over there?" he asked, looking down into her eyes with a hint of concern in his. She tried to avoid eye contact with him, shaking her head.

"Nothing, really, just lost my train of thought," she said. George stopped walking, in effect stopping her with his arm.

"Now you come off it, Angelina, I know you and I know you're lying. Come on now, you know whatever it is you can tell it to me."' Angelina unlinked her arm from his and stepped back a bit. She stood with her back to him, but he reached out and pulled her shoulder to turn her around. Facing him, she looked up into his face and realized that a tear was forming in her eye.

"It's really nothing, George. Really. I don't really want to talk about it, please." She cursed herself for a poor joke. She hadn't thought it through very much before saying something so close to truth, albeit in jest.

"Alright," he consented. "I won't force it, but you know you can tell me anything." He started to walk again, but he stopped when she spoke up again, a little quieter this time.

"I am that type," she said. "I was very much that type after the war."

"What do you mean?"

Angelina sighed and sat along the little stone wall that lined the road near the Burrow. She hadn't intended on telling him any of this ever, but something in his voice pulled it out of her.

"I mean that I slept around, George. I was angry and hurting and sad and I missed your brother. I was bitter at him for leaving me before I got to have a real relationship with him, and I couldn't stop thinking about him. I didn't have anyone to talk to, so when it got really bad, I'd go to Muggle pubs, get piss drunk, and go home with a bloke. I didn't do it often but I did it enough. I regret it, I do. I didn't want you to judge me but I wanted to tell you. I haven't done it since before my birthday last year."

George nodded, processing what she said, and walked a few paces away. He sat on the wall on the other side of the narrow road and looked at her. She waited anxiously but didn't say anymore. She would wait to see how he would respond.

"Well then, you probably shouldn't make that joke to my mum," he said, straining to be funny. He winced when he saw that his attempt at humor had actually hurt her. He crossed the small road and sat next to her.

"Don't cry, Ange, I was only kidding you," he said softly as he wiped the new tears from her cheeks. "Really, it doesn't bother me. I'm sorry you were afraid to tell me about it. Hell, I'm sorry you didn't have any other way to deal."

He wiped her tears again and stood up, pulling her with him. She leaned into his chest and breathed slowly to control her tears.

"Alright, well now that the cat is out of the bag, I suppose it's time for some lunch," she said after she finally calmed herself down. "I feel quite a bit foolish now. I built that up in my head quite a bit, and here you are all fine and dandy with the whole thing. I guess that means I'll have to be fine and dandy about it."

George chuckled and linked arms with her again.

"I couldn't agree more. We've all done things we aren't proud of, Angelina. It's time that you get over it if you ask me."

She leaned her head against his arm as they walked.

"Thank you, George. Don't say anything to Katie or Alicia though. They wouldn't really understand it."

"Not a word. Your secret is safe with me. Unless you get me drunk, of course. Then I'm not to be held liable for my actions." He waggled his eyebrows for emphasis.

Angelina laughed as they neared the Burrow. She felt lighter as they walked.


	10. Chapter 10

AN: I hope those of you following the story are enjoying. Please please please leave some reviews to let me know what you think!

**Chapter 10**

Angelina wondered why George had even bothered to worry about his mum. They had been at the Burrow for almost two hours now and Mrs. Weasley hadn't said anything but nice things to her. Harry, Ron, Ginny, Bill and George were all in the back yard playing a bit of Quidditch while she and Hermione helped Mrs. Weasley clean up after dinner. Fleur was upstairs caring for her and Bill's recently born daughter. Molly had tried to push the girls out of the kitchen, but they had both firmly stood their ground and begun cleaning up. Hermione had the advantage of being Ron's fiancée—she told Molly that she might as well get used to her helping.

When all was cleaned up and tea was set out in the yard, Angelina sat at the Burrow's outdoor table with Hermione. They weren't speaking, but they enjoyed the presence of another person next to them. Molly had made them serve the tea while she went about finishing dessert. Successfully banished to the back yard, they watched as the boys and Ginny flew around and tossed the Quaffle amongst them. As Angelina sipped her tea she wondered about George's concerns about his mum.

"So Angelina, do you think you'll be making it to more of these family gatherings?" Hermione asked, finally breaking their comfortable silence.

"I suppose as long George invites me, I'll be here," she responded, a bit taken aback by the sudden inquiry. She couldn't quite pinpoint if there was hidden meaning in Hermione's question or if she was merely curious. "I've really enjoyed spending time with you lot. It's been a lovely evening."

"Of course. I'm glad you came. Usually it's just me and Ginny and Fleur. Fleur takes naps and Ginny goes off to play with the boys. Arthur usually goes into the shed to fiddle with some Muggle contraptions and Molly eventually manages to boot me from the kitchen. When Charlie and Percy can make it, they're off in the air too. It's nice to have someone else here to sit with."

Angelina smiled at this. She'd normally be the first to grab a broom and toss a Quaffle around, but she'd wanted to be helpful and do her best not to alienate Mrs. Weasley. She was glad she'd made a good impression on Hermione too. She supposed there wasn't much hidden meaning in her question—she was just glad to have company.

"Molly was very glad when George told her he was bringing you. It's good for George to spend time with someone," she continued. "Whenever he's not around, half of her time is spent fretting about him."

Hermione stopped talking then because Mrs. Weasley was coming out of the kitchen with pie. She smiled at Angelina as she got up to gather plates and forks for everyone. Angelina offered to help, but Molly just shooed her and told her not to worry a minute about it. Molly yelled up into the air at her children on brooms to come down to Earth for some pie. While the older witch had her back turned, Hermione handed her a knife and she began slicing the pie.

"Harry, I've never seen you move that fast even for a snitch," Angelina joked. "If I'd known that all it took was pie, we might have won games in five seconds."

The whole group laughed at Harry's cheeks as they flushed. Angelina began handing out plates of pie. She handed one to George and smiled at him. He smiled back, but she wasn't sure why his smile seemed different. He was probably flushed from flying.

,,,

* * *

When the family was done with dessert, they gathered in the living room. It was dark out now, and the pie had settled in the flyers' stomachs, so there would be no more playing on brooms. Tea was served and the radio was turned on. After an hour of jokes, politics, and music, the older Weasleys excused themselves to bed, and Bill and Fleur, the ever-exhausted new parents, left to take baby Victoire home to Shell Cottage. Angelina was left in the living room with George, Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron.

"So you know Percy's got a new girl," Ron said once his parents were gone. "He hasn't mentioned it to Mum yet because it's pretty new."

"He seems quite smitten," said Ginny. "Harry and I had lunch with him the other day and he mentioned it."

"Really it's all he could talk about," added Harry. "She works closely with Kingsley like he does."

"Wait, you're telling me that Percy is actually fraternizing with a coworker? How un-Percy of him," George laughed. The others laughed too. It was funny to them mostly because Percy really had become a different person after the war. He was still uptight and all about the rules, but he valued the important things—love and family—much more than before.

"Right then, how's about a real drink?" Ron asked as he jumped up from where he had been sitting with Hermione. Harry followed him into the kitchen. They returned with armfuls of butterbeer and were greeted with a chorus of muted cheers (to avoid waking the old folks).

It was almost midnight, but they were still young and wanted nothing to do with sleep just yet. Ron claimed his spot next to Hermione, who quickly cuddled into the crook of his arm. Ginny followed suit as Harry sat next to her. As Angelina sat with her feet propped up and sipped her drink, she became painfully aware of the distance between herself and George. She was used to this by now. When they hung out with their friends, she and George were the single ones, the ones who didn't canoodle—unless they were drunk. She looked across at the couples cuddled together with their drinks and tried to ignore the nagging sensation within her. She focused on her drink and laughed when jokes were made. This distance was nothing new, so it wasn't going to bother her. Not now.


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: **Thank you so so SO much to the few of you who have given me some really wonderful reviews. You have really made me feel great and made me want to keep posting this story. I hope you will continue to let me know what you like about the story!

**Chapter 11**

At four in the morning, the rubbish bin was full of empty bottles and they were all finally ready for their beds. Hermione and Ron said good night first and stumbled upstairs. The remaining four had a great laugh at the sound of their footsteps—it wasn't easy for them trying to make it all the way up to Ron's room when they were drunk. There were several missteps heard and lots of swears from Ron followed quickly by Hermione's not-so-quiet admonishments.

Shortly after, Ginny and Harry bid goodnight and had a shorter, easier trip up the stairs to Ginny's room. It was understood that Molly would likely check in on them at some point, and in the morning Hermione and Harry would quickly switch places. Molly was glad for her children and their engagements, but she was somewhat old-fashioned about how things worked before marriage. Ginny had fought with her the first time Harry had spent the night in her room, but Molly refused to budge. The couples eventually rigged up a warning system that alerted them to when Molly was coming and gave Hermione and Harry enough time to Apparate to the other bedroom. They still laughed about the time it malfunctioned and they'd had barely a second before Molly opened Ron's door to find that Harry had Apparated into the same bed as Ron.

Angelina was struggling to keep her eyes open when George spoke up.

"How they don't manage to wake up Mum is amazing," he said as they listened to Harry and Ginny's thunderous footsteps fade up the stairs. He stood up and tossed the remaining empty bottles in the bin. "You want to crash here, Ange? Or Floo back to my flat?"

"Your flat I suppose. I don't want to give your mum any more wrong ideas if I show up in her kitchen in the same dress tomorrow morning," she said, laughing a little. George grinned and walked over to the fireplace.

"After you," he said, offering her the jar of Floo Powder.

Angelina was used to sleeping at George's flat by now. Since they spent so much of their time together, crashing at each other's flat was a regular occurrence. It had been for months now. She enjoyed it, because it saved her time in the morning if she didn't have to meet him for coffee. Her feet landed on George's floor and she barely caught her balance before George stumbled into her. She was caught off guard and would have fallen to the floor, but he grabbed her arms to keep her up.

Suddenly she found her face inches from his, her balance completely dependent on his hands, which gripped her arms. His grip was overwhelmingly strong but not forceful; she was keenly aware of the tension in his muscles. The remained suspended like this, his large hands encircling her arms as their faces hovered mere inches apart, for the better half of a minute. Suddenly, he blinked, and it broke Angelina's trance.

"Thanks," she eked out as she straightened herself. Hesitantly, George removed his hands, still in a mild state of bewilderment. Before he could respond, Angelina was already in his bedroom. When he followed, she was fishing through a drawer for a shirt. "Where's that comfy blue shirt I like?" she asked.

"It's..it's in the wash," he stuttered. George was in a fog. He wasn't sure what he had just seen when he landed in his flat. He knew they were both drunk enough to be startled by a sudden post-Floo collision, but was that what had happened? Suddenly he caught her reflection in his mirror. She stood by his dresser, pointedly searching through his drawer looking for the best shirt to sleep in. Her hair was falling from its ponytail now, and waves of soft black hair cluttered the nape of her neck. Angelina pulled a green button-down from the drawer and removing her own dress. He had no time to react before she was donning his shirt and climbing into his bed. As he stood there in a stupor, she curled into his comforter and let her eyelids weigh themselves down.

"Good night George," she murmured. Realizing that he was still standing in his doorway, he undressed, leaving himself decent enough to climb into bed next to her, and laid his head on his pillow. He was passed out before he could feel the warmth of her rolling into him.

* * *

George Weasley stood in his bedroom. The sun was shining through the window. It was a dawn sun, rosy and orange. He stood at the edge of his bed, and in front of him kneeled Angelina on his bed. She faced him wearing nothing but his green shirt. Her hair fell around her shoulders in voluminous waves. Without speaking, eyes fixated on his, she took his hand and placed it on her waist. She gave him a mischievous grin. He took this as a cue to pull her closer, and so he did.

Their bodies were close now, almost touching. George saw the unbuttoned shirt begin to fall open, slowly exposing her body underneath. Angelina lifted her left arm and draped it behind his neck. With one finger she stroked the nape of his neck where his hair ended. George shivered at the touch. She smiled at him and raised her right hand. With one finger, she began poking him in his forehead. Poke poke poke poke poke. Repeatedly she tapped on his forehead, but it did not sound like finger meeting forehead. Rather, it had a shrill tapping sound to it. George became more and more disoriented, his eyes fluttering as she repeatedly poked his head and produced this tapping sound on his skin. It grew louder.

His eyes flew open. Next to him on the bed was Angelina, sprawled out on her stomach, one leg clumsily draped over his. His clock read nine thirty. The tapping noise continued.

"Bloody owls," he growled as he lugged himself out of bed. Sure enough a tawny owl was pecking mercilessly at his window. He recognized the owl as his parents' new owl Franklin. He flung open the window and retrieved the post, offering Franklin a biscuit before closing the window to him. He stepped out of the bedroom and quietly shut his door to avoid waking Angelina. He put on a pot of coffee before sitting down to read his mother's post.

'George dear, I enjoyed your visit yesterday and was glad you were able to bring your friend. She's a lovely girl, that Angelina. I hope you will bring her around more often. I know you don't like me to bother you about this, but if you're going to be having her back to your flat at absurd hours of the night after littering my rubbish bin with Butterbeer bottles, I hope you are offering her your bed while you take the couch. Your brother and sister may think they can pull one over on me, but I am well aware of who ends up where at the end of the night. Your father was impressed with Angelina as well – he keeps bringing up how bright she seemed during their conversation about the new regulations regarding magical tampering with Muggle contraptions. Your brother Charlie will be home for a few days next week – we hope you'll come by to visit him and bring Angelina with you. Love, your mother.'

George sighed and set down the letter down on his table. He filled a mug with the fresh coffee and sat back down, staring at the parchment. His mother would have his hide if she knew that he regularly shared beds with Angelina—even if it was strictly a platonic arrangement. Even if he wasn't sure how strict or platonic it still was. Frustrated with himself, he groaned and held his head in his hands. He hadn't been too drunk to forget the way they had been so close last night, or the way he had noticed every curve of her body as she searched for a shirt. He wondered if she had been as keenly aware of the distance between them or the heat that his hands generated against her skin when he caught her. Had she been aware of his eyes, dumbly gawking as she let her dress fall and she pulled on his shirt?

"Butterbeer coming back to bite you in the arse?" she asked, materializing in his kitchen before he realized it. When he lifted his head and turned to respond, he paused. She was pouring herself a coffee and mixing sugar into it, still dressed in the green shirt. George was abruptly struck with the memory of his dream, the way the green shirt shone against her dark skin in the hazy light of daybreak as it broke through his window. "At least it wasn't whisky," she laughed as she sat with her coffee. He cracked a smile at this, but the contrast of his dream image against the woman in front of him kept his tongue twisted.

Angelina noticed that George was repeatedly glancing at her legs, bare and exposed. She had forced herself to ignore the self-conscious voice telling her to find pants only because she knew she had none, the fatal flaw in wearing a dress. She chose to ignore George's glances. It was best if she didn't call him out—it would only make them both more uncomfortable. She didn't know why. This was not a new scene for them, both hung over, her in one of his shirts.

They drank their coffee in silence, mostly because neither was functional in a hangover before at least two cups. She noticed the parchment on the table. She thought she caught her name in the script, but she didn't ask him about it. She changed back into her dress and gave George a hug goodbye before Apparating into her own flat. She had no plans that day, so she showered and crawled back into her bed. She had never felt this awkwardness, this uncertainty that she was feeling now. She knew what Katie would say to her if she told her about the way that George had looked at her. She had felt the lingering attention of his gaze last night, but she didn't want to think about it. She made herself brush it off, dismiss it as a drunken daze.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: **Thanks to everyone who has left me really wonderful reviews - you all have made me feel so great about posting this story. I'm glad that everyone is really enjoying it. And don't worry, there are many more chapters to come. Please keep reviewing :)

**Chapter 12**

George Weasley spent the whole day Monday staring at the wall. Ginny had come to help him in the shop for the day—she enjoyed spending time there when she didn't have practice with the Harpies. Unfortunately for her, she had picked the worst day to come. The shop was slow – students were still at Hogwarts for another week and most people were at work. Every now and then a parent would bring in a gaggle of young children, let them wreak havoc and then purchase them some small prize for not completely burning down the store. After they left, Ginny would perform a quick sweep with her wand and the store would look like new again.

At half three, Ginny was ready to leave. She had maintained the store for a few hours while her brother had stared at the wall and absentmindedly played with a magic spinning top. He watched as it spun itself for hours and waved his finger when he wanted it to change directions. He was absolutely useless.

"I'm done," she yelled after a young mother pulled her screaming three year old out of the shop. "You're useless, and I'm leaving." She stormed into the back room and grabbed her purse.

George barely stirred. Annoyed, she threw her bag at his head.

"Ow! Are you mad, Gin? What are you throwing things for?" he yelled, rubbing the spot where he'd been hit.

"What on earth has gotten into you?" she yelled back. "You have been a miserable lump of uselessness all day long!"

"Have not," he said sullenly. He crossed his arms and leaned on the counter. The top stopped spinning, clinking against the slate as it fell. "Just a bit out of sorts."

"Bollocks, George, I don't know if I've even seen you move today. If this is about Angelina, don't think I didn't notice the way you looked at her yesterday. If you fancy her, then do something about it. Don't just sit there with your little spinny top and mope all day."

George's stomach flipped. That she had pinpointed his problem so easily churned the acid and unnerved him.

"You don't know anything, Gin. Even if that were the problem, it wouldn't be that simple. Thanks for the help today. Give Harry my best." George stood up and tried to brush off his sister's words, but that was difficult to do when she wouldn't leave.

"I'll tell you what I do know," Ginny said, crossing her arms. "You're a git. So was Fred. You think I don't know what you're moping about? Bollocks, I'm not stupid. She was Fred's girl, yea. But Fred never took the time for her, and now it's too late for that. God love him, our brother, but he's not here. It really is that simple, George. Now more than ever, it really is that simple. It's clear that you fancy her, and you're not getting any younger, so just bloody go for it. Stop worrying about offending Fred's memory or whatever mess is going on in your head. You know he'd get a good laugh about this all anyway."

With that Ginny leaned over the counter, kissed her brother on the forehead and left the store. It took a moment for him to fully feel the impact of what Ginny had said. Weasley women were never ones to mince their words. George glanced up at the clock. Was four in the afternoon too early to close shop? Probably. Five minutes later, he hung the sign anyway and Disapparated from Diagon Alley. Home in his flat, he looked at the green shirt that lay on his floor. He picked it up—he could smell the breezy floral scent that followed Angelina wherever she went.

"Bloody hell," he groaned as he flopped on his bed. He eventually managed to get himself up from his bed and fix himself a simple dinner of chicken and rice. He took a shower to try and wash himself out of this funk he'd fallen into, and at half ten he was back in bed. He tossed about restlessly for hours but couldn't get past the twilight stage of sleep, that one when you are on the brink of sleep but even the slightest twitch of your body will wake up again. After waking himself up by rolling over for the millionth time, George groaned and looked at his clock. It was half four and he had maybe had his eyes closed for an hour total.

He glanced at the green shirt that lay on the floor where he'd dropped it earlier. It stared back at him with a truth he had tried to avoid. He didn't want to be the guy that fell in love with his dead brother's girl. She wasn't really his girl though, nagged a voice in his head. He knew that Fred had cared about Angelina, but Ginny was right. He had been a git; he had put a relationship with her on the back burner because he was sure she'd always be there. He thought that after the war he'd be able to finally settle down with her.

George rolled to his other side and away from the shirt on the floor. He didn't have plans with Angelina this week. He was going to ignore the tension he'd felt the night before when he'd caught her out of the Floo. He was going to ignore the way his body had felt when he'd seen her in his shirt the other morning. He might be able to tell himself that she was never his brother's girl, not really, but he couldn't hide the fact that she had become his best friend, and that was a scary thing to risk losing. He wasn't sure he could admit that he'd fallen in love with her if it meant not having her there when he really needed her friendship.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: **Thank you to everyone who has left such positive reviews! I hope you will keep telling me what you like about the story and keep on reading :)

**Chapter 13**

Friday afternoon Angelina left her flat on a mission. She had busied herself during the week with cleaning her flat, running errands, and working on a few sports editorials predicting the outcome of the upcoming Quidditch finals. Puddlemere had made it to the quarter-finals, as had Chudley, Holyhead and Montrose. Puddlemere would face the Magpies first, and then the winner of the Cannons-Harpies match if they won. The quarter-finals were going to be a tough one to predict, but she'd tried her best. Both the United and the Harpies were formidable teams. She knew Chudley would put up a good fight, but the Magpies were a wildcard. Nobody had expected them to make it this far, but she was firmly in the camp that believed they would run out of steam before the end. Just before leaving her flat, she had sent an owl to her editor carrying in-depth analyses of every team's strengths and weaknesses with her forecast of how the finals would play out.

She arrived in Diagon Alley just as many shopkeepers were locking up. It was near six, and many of them were getting home to their families now. It made her wonder about the shops that remained open later. Did they not have families to go home to? Or were they staying late so they could afford to care for their families? She knew that the joke shop would be closing soon—George had no family to provide for, and on Fridays he usually ended up at Angelina's flat for dinner or out with her and Katie, Alicia, Lee, and Oliver. It was the right time for what she hoped wasn't the wrong move.

A few shops ahead of her, she saw a tall frame topped with bright red hair exiting into the lane. She slowed her steps slightly at the sight of him. When they had begun spending time together, comforting each other, she hadn't really noticed his body aside from how comfortable he was to sleep on. Now she was keenly aware of his arms that seemed lean but held hidden strength, his firm chest and how it moved when he breathed, and his fiery hair that framed his face so well, kept just long enough to disguise the scar that was once his ear. She hadn't really known what she was going to do when she got here—they had no plans tonight, and she didn't know what she was going to say, or even what she wanted to say. But she knew that the past week had been weird without him, and she was tired of avoiding the tension they'd felt the other night. She breathed deeply, trying to remain calm about the fact that she was probably going to upend her life tonight, but her stomach still fluttered.

George turned and caught the sight of Angelina coming towards him. She was wearing a flowy purple skirt with a white camisole; her hair fell in waves over her dark shoulders. She smiled as she neared, a warm smile brightening his mood like the sun breaking through after a long cloudy day.

"Care to get some dinner?" she asked so casually that he was sure she had put his awkward behavior from Monday behind her. There was something different about the way she waited for his answer, as if the fate of the world rested upon whether or not he was in the mood to eat, but he brushed it off. He was letting himself get to his head. He agreed to dinner and instinctively held his arm with a cheeky grin. She linked her arm through his without question, so he knew that he hadn't completely ruined their friendship by gawking at her Monday.

They chatted about their week as they walked to dinner, the conversation easily flowing like nothing strange had passed between them. George was comforted by this; the last thing he had wanted was for things to be weird in any way between them. Now and then he'd catch something in her eye when she would smile at him, or notice that her laugh had a different sound to it. They ate at a small fish and chips shop just outside the Leaky Cauldron where the staff knew them by name. She told him all about the article she'd submitted that morning; she already hoped her predictions were wrong.

"I'm sorry to say it, because I do want Oliver to win, but I just don't think Puddlemere's got it. I think they'll take down Montrose with a bit of a struggle, but they're going to lose sight of the Snitch, so to speak, when they come up against Holyhead. I don't know anyone besides Ron who thinks that Chudley's going to get past the Harpies, after all. They're just too powerful of a force, those witches. I really want it to be Puddlemere, but I just don't think it will. I'd be pleasantly surprised if they took Gwenog and the girls down, though."

"So in one article it seems like you're going to make both your friend and my brother very disappointed while making my sister quite happy. You can't please everyone! I'm sure Gin will be happy to read it. She hasn't gotten any real playing time yet, but she said that after this season a couple players might be retiring. She's pretty eager to prove herself, you know?"

They finished up their meal and stepped out onto the London streets, letting their conversation fade as they stepped out into the night. George didn't live far from Diagon Alley, so they took advantage of the warm night by walking home after dinner. It was half nine when they left the restaurant; Angelina yawned as they walked.

"Why so tired, Ange? All that Quidditch guessing…er, reporting got you sleepy?" he teased.

"Oh shut it you, I've been cleaning my flat all day. I rearranged my bedroom and actually sorted out all the clothes in my closet for what I should keep and what I should bin. So I'm a bit tired, yea," she replied. She looped her arm into his and rested her head on him as they walked. She was tall, but he was still taller, and so her head landed comfortably on his shoulder. "Why are we walking? Let's just Apparate," she sighed.

"I've got a better idea," he said loudly as he suddenly scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder. "I'll just carry you! Isn't that what ancient Muggles would do with women? Just carry them everywhere?" He couldn't hear if she actually answered him over her hysterical laughter, but he was pretty sure that she yelled something obscene.

"Put me down, you git!" she eked out, beating on his back. "You're going to show my knickers to all of London!"

"Oy! That might not be such a bad sight for them!" he joked as he set her back on the ground. He pretended to flinch as she punched him in the arm. "At least it woke you up! I must commend you on your choice of words! How ladylike of you," he laughed, holding hands up to defend himself from her next punch.

She laughingly relented and dropped her fist. They both chuckled as they continued walking. Angelina wasn't sure if it was the silliness or the warm summer air, but as she noticed the swing of his arm beside hers, she suddenly caught his hand and slid her fingers between his. She felt him start slightly, but he relaxed and closed his fingers around hers without a word. They walked a couple blocks like this. She could feel his questions brewing inside of him, but she didn't disturb him. She was content to enjoy her hand in his for the moment. As they neared his building, she began to linger, walking a little slower.

"Angelina," he began, but she cut him off by stopping in her tracks.

"I don't know," she said, still holding on to his hand as though he might run if she let go. "I don't know when this happened, George. But you feel it, right? I'm not the only one." Suddenly she felt like she should apologize for developing feelings for him. She wasn't really sorry—he was her best friend, and she wasn't going to make excuses. Still, if he didn't feel the same, then she was really botching things up. She was just opening her mouth to defend herself when his lips connected with hers.

The argument she'd been having with herself faded away as she felt her entire body relax into the kiss. She wasn't sure how long it lasted, but he pulled away before she was ready for it to end.

"I don't know either," he said, smiling down at her. She opened her mouth to say something, to tell him that she knew things would be different and that she knew it was new and strange and terrifying, but instead he kissed her again. "We can talk about it later." She smiled into his kiss, resting her hand on his waist as he leaned into her. It surprised her how easily she became lost in the moment, forgetting how worried and scared she had been. She pulled him with her as she stepped backwards, leaning herself against the nearest building. Later she remembered thinking that she had expected him to kiss like Fred and being surprised at how different it felt. Fred had always been a bit of an eager kisser, always ready to move on to the next part of the show.

But George, he was kissing her like he would be happy to stand there and kiss her all night. His body was pressed against her, squeezing her tightly between the wall and his body; the pressure made her heart beat as fast as a hummingbird's wings. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on to him as he leaned down into her. She had stopped thinking about anything, focusing her brain on the feeling of his lips against hers. She was sure that she had never kissed like this before.

Eventually, Angelina began to feel his hands move. His right hand slid behind her back to hold her even closer; his left landed on her waist. The left caressed her side rhythmically for a while before moving upward. He barely grazed her breast, but she felt the touch enough to shudder against him. She felt his lips turn upwards into a slight grin as his hand moved further upward to stroke her neck and ear. Her hands were mostly preoccupied with holding on to his neck and stroking his hair. She was wholly dependent on him for support at this point.

It was when he lightly bit down on her lower lip while stroking the nape of her neck that she finally let forth a throaty moan. She felt a slight rush of wind and opened her eyes to see that they were back in his flat in the middle of his living room. Before she could even process that he'd Apparated them there, they were landing on his couch and kissing again.

She began to think this would continue all night; part of her was happy to think it. She caught a glimpse of his clock—it was a quarter past eleven. Reluctantly, she pulled away and looked up into his eyes.

"Not that I couldn't do this all night, but we've been at it a good while," she said. She couldn't help but laugh at the goofy grin on his face. She pushed his chest to motion that she wanted to get up, and he obliged, sitting at the other end of the couch.

"I see no reason to stop in the middle of the fun," he joked. She laughed and got up to go to the loo. As she walked in, she caught a glimpse into his bedroom, where the green shirt she'd slept in sat on his pillow. As she exited the loo, she quietly went into his room. The shirt still had that just-worn wrinkled look, so it probably hadn't been washed since she'd slept in it.

"It smelled like you," he said from behind her. "It helped me fall asleep. I find it harder to sleep when you're not here these days." Angelina turned. As he stood in the doorway to his bedroom, he clearly wore his heart on his sleeve. In this admission he exposed his vulnerable state; he was so wonderfully encouraged by her kisses and yet still so afraid that she was going to desert him, leave him with nothing but the faint smell of her on an old shirt. She closed the space between them with a few easy steps and gave him another kiss, this one gentle and reassuring.

She put the shirt on again and removed her camisole from underneath it; it was a long enough shirt that when she removed her skirt, he was still left guessing. All he could see were toned mile-high legs. He took her cue and removed his shirt and pants. They climbed into the bed, he in his boxers and she in his shirt. This time they didn't pretend like there needed to be space between them. She cuddled into him; his arm held her against him while she extended hers over his stomach. Without anything else save for a little kiss goodnight, they lie with the warmth of each other's bodies and soft, contented breathing to lull them into sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

**AN: Thank you for all the wonderful reviews so far! Keep them coming - tell me what you like! Hope you enjoyed the last chapter - it was one of my favorites to write!**

**Chapter 14**

"You've got that glow," Alicia said as she sat down across from Angelina and Katie. It was late in the afternoon Tuesday. They were meeting for tea in a café at the end of Diagon Alley four days after Angelina's tension with George had come to a head. Angelina sipped her tea and looked at Alicia with a clueless expression. Katie elbowed her gently in the side.

"Don't be coy, miss," she teased. "You've got a secret, and you know we can tell."

"That glow when something good happens… I haven't seen that in quite some time, not from you. Come on now, what is it?" Alicia leaned across the table, putting her ear close enough to hear. Angelina laughed into her ear. She felt like she was back at Hogwarts in the girls' dorm, when they would sit and gossip and giggle well after everyone else was asleep.

Angelina didn't know where to start. They already knew that George had become her best friend, really the best friend she could have hoped for. Did she tell them about the kissing first? Or her confusion? Or the fact that she had spent the entire weekend in his shirt, canoodling with him and ordering dinner in? She smiled as she lifted her tea to her mouth again. She remembered the feeling she'd had as they had talked in his bed Saturday morning. It was that feeling of lightness, the same lightness she'd felt after he'd comforted her outside the Burrow. He had held her in his arms and told her that she was the best thing to ever happen to him. They had talked about how things might change if they became romantically involved, but both decided that there was no need to put any pressure on them. They would let themselves be how they wanted to be and see where the chips fell.

"Well, I suppose I can tell you that George and I won't be the same as before," she said with a grin. The girls squealed with excitement.

"Well it's about bloody time!" Katie shouted. A few other patrons turned, but she ignored their reproachful glares. "Give us the juicy details now, what happened?"

"Well," she said, taking a deep breath, "you know I went over to the Burrow for dinner with his family Sunday, and after his parents went to bed, we all started drinking. I thought maybe it was because we were drunk, but when we got back to his flat, there was something there. I could just feel that he was looking at me differently, you know? I tried to put it out of my head all week, but come Friday, I realized I wanted him to look at me that way, so differently. I hadn't been able to stop thinking about the look in his eyes Sunday night. Anyhow, we walked home, and I held his hand, and I said I didn't know when things had changed, and he kissed me."

Her friends stared at her with gaping mouths. She felt her cheeks flush from the embarrassment. After what felt like an endless silence, Katie closed her mouth, reached over and punched her in the arm. It wasn't a hard punch, but a playful one.

"Took you long enough to get it over with! We've been waiting for it since New Year's. I knew something was up between you two. Really it was only a matter of time."

Now Angelina playfully threw a sugar cube at Katie.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Katie. There hasn't always been something going on, it just sort of came up. I can't really explain it, but I am glad. He's pretty good at snogging, you know," she joked. She loved this exchange, this girly sharing of the juicy details. It was something she hadn't done in quite some time. She thought about the last time she'd had anything to tell them gossipy. For a moment she frowned—the last time had been their seventh year, when she'd first slept with Fred. They still didn't know about how she'd started to sleep around with Muggles after the war.

"Alright, so what's it all mean? Are you two going to be an item?" Alicia asked, breaking her away from the memory of Fred. She hadn't noticed Angelina's mood turn; she was sitting eagerly waiting for more details.

"We're just going to take our time, see how everything pans out. We're both in unfamiliar territory, you know? It's a bit scary, actually."

"Do you love him?" Katie asked. Angelina set her tea down as she looked up at her friend, her eyes filled with mirth.

"I think I really do."

"Then it will pan out just fine," Katie said. "Look, we both know that you haven't had the easiest time and that it might be a bit awkward what with George being the twin brother of the last bloke you loved, but given the circumstances of how our lives have turned out, I'd say that you two are meant for each other. Whenever we go out, you two are in your own little world half the time, filled with your jokes and your secrets. It's really cute, actually. I wouldn't worry about a thing."

Angelina smiled and thanked her. It was what she needed to hear right then. Because it really was an awkward thing to fall in love with your dead lover's brother, and she felt better about it knowing that she and George really needed each other.

"So come here, what's he like in bed?" Katie asked, only half joking.

"Ha, like I'm going to tell you that if we ever shag," Angelina laughed.

"You mean you haven't?" Alicia asked. "I thought that's what you do when you realize you're both into each other!" She laughed to herself, thinking about the night Lee had finally admitted to fancying her.

"No, actually we haven't!" Angelina replied, feigning indignity before a more serious note. "I'm not too comfortable with the idea of jumping into bed with him just yet. We're both a bit…fragile, I suppose. Shagging so soon would just mess our heads up even more than they already are, y'know?"

Katie nodded just as Alicia shook her head.

"Oliver and I waited a while, actually. It was pretty new, and we were both still healing, and it just didn't feel right to rush it. I'm pretty glad we waited. It made it for one hell of a night when we finally let it happen," she giggled.

"Lee and I were just too damn frisky for our own goods, I suppose. We didn't put much thought into whether it'd mess us up or not. Too late to worry now!" Alicia chimed in.

"I'm really happy for you, Ange," Katie said, taking her hand across the table.


	15. Chapter 15

**AN: I've really loved getting reviews from all of you who are enjoying the story! I hope you keep reviewing and letting me know what you like about it!**

**Chapter 15**

Three weeks later, Mrs. Weasley told George to invite Angelina to dinner for what was probably the millionth time.

"She's such a lovely girl," she said. She regularly pestered George about his friendship with her. She asked him about what she did and how she was getting on and when he was going to bring her back for dinner again. He finally relented and promised his mum that he'd bring her the following Saturday for dinner.

He hadn't told his parents yet that they were officially seeing each other and had been for almost a month. He knew exactly how his mother would react—first full of excitement, then telling him she had known this would happen, and then telling him that he'd better be acting a complete gentleman with her. He figured it would be easier when things weren't so new between them. After promising his mum that Angelina would love to join them for dinner on Saturday, he feigned a need for the bathroom and went upstairs to Ginny's room.

"Blimey, George, you're lucky you clod up the stairs like a lead-footed troll," Ginny said as he walked in without knocking. She and Harry were on her bed, close enough that they'd obviously been much closer before he entered. He pretended he didn't realize that he interrupted them. It was better not to think about the fact that Harry was doing the sort of things to his sister that he'd kill any other bloke for doing.

"Sorry Gin, I'll walk more quietly next time. But now that I'm here, think you could lend an ear for a minute?" George didn't often go to his sister for advice, but she knew better than any how to deal with their mother. She had been living in the Burrow since Hogwarts, after all. More than any of them, she had been dealing with the often overbearing love and attention of their mother. Ginny resigned to the fact that her brother would not just go away and made herself comfortable by leaning into Harry. She waved her hand, gesturing for him to sit and continue.

"Mum asked me to bring Angelina to dinner this weekend," he began. Ginny rolled her eyes. She knew that her brother had become romantic with his friend. "Do you think I should tell her now, wait until Saturday, or just keep on pretending that nothing's changed?"

"Well you might as well just wait until Saturday," Ginny offered. "You know that Mum would just make a big deal of it if you told her now, and you probably wouldn't be able to deal with that. You wouldn't even be here to deal with it, meaning I would get to listen to Mum talk herself voiceless about how she always knew this would happen. If you tell her Saturday, then at least I get dinner and a show." She giggled a little as Harry nudged her, telling her to be nice to her poor brother.

"Thanks Gin. Always such a peach. Why not just put it off then?"

"Well, first I want my show with my dinner. Second, you know the longer you go without telling Mum, the angrier she'll be that you didn't tell her right away."

George nodded, said that he'd have to think on it, and thanked his sister for her advice, however self-serving it might be. He ignored Harry's hand that held his sister's hip and left them before he lost the battle with his protective older brother instincts. He flopped onto his bed moments later and stared at his ceiling. Since Fred's death, he couldn't stand the empty feel of the room. There were still two beds, two desks, and the one large wardrobe with two separate sides. This was a room meant to house two, but now it was only occupied by one. He curled onto his side and stared at his brother's empty bed, made up by his mother as part of her usual cleaning routine as though any day now someone would sleep there again.

He wished he had his brother to talk to now, but he knew it was a moot point. If Fred had survived the war, he would have taken Angelina out on that date. He would have stopped hiding behind the war as an excuse not to become seriously involved with her. He'd have seen that she wouldn't wait around forever and would've swept her off her feet. It would have been the two of them that he interrupted during personal moments and the two of them that his mother fawned over.

It was difficult for George to wonder which he would prefer. Now that he and Angelina had been dating for a few weeks and were clearly falling in love with each other, he was feeling the first echoes of real happiness within his soul again. He had hope for the first time in two years—hope for a happy ending of sorts. If Fred were alive today, he wouldn't be facing this future with Angelina because she'd still be Fred's girl, and he'd have had to find himself another path to happiness. It was an emotional catch-22 of the worst kind. He could not say which would be better to him because both were the happiness he longed for and both involved the loss of something extremely dear to him. George was grateful that he would never have to actually choose and put it out of his mind.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Sorry it's been a little while since I've updated - I made the mistake of spilling a whole glass of water on my computer. But luckily my documents have all been saved and the story can continue! **

***Chapter 16***

When Saturday finally rolled around, Angelina felt like she'd been waiting for years. It had only been a couple of days since George had told her he'd be telling his parents about their new relationship during the next family dinner. She was excited. She couldn't wait to be able to cuddle with George and hold his hand and kiss him in front of everyone. She was jealous of the unabashed affection that she had seen Hermione and Ginny show their fiancés. It would be wonderful to sit down for tea after dinner and be able to curl into the curve of George's body, to have his arm around her holding her so comfortably against him.

She figured that it would be painless and easy since his mum had been wanting ever since she'd seen her holding his hand at Hogwarts. She figured George would tell his parents and then dinner would commence and they would be happy. She didn't count on Molly Weasley bursting into tears and nearly hugging the life out of her.

"Mum, Dad, I want to tell you something," George said when he walked into the kitchen, where Molly was cooking and Arthur was fiddling with some gadget at the table. Molly turned from the pot that was stirring itself and smiled warmly at her son.

"What is it?" she asked, wiping her hands on her apron. Behind the smile, George could see the embers of anxiety. His mum never knew if he brought good or bad news, and she was probably so used to him and his brothers telling her how they'd messed up something or made a choice she didn't approve of that she was just waiting for the words so she could smack him upside the head. She softened a little when Angelina followed him into the room. "Hello, dear, lovely to see you."

George wrapped his arm around Angelina's waist and pulled her close to him.

"Angelina and I have started seeing each other," he announced with a grin. "We have been for about ha month now." His father cheered and stood from the table to clap him on back.

"Well congratulations, son," he said before hugging Angelina. George was too busy smiling at this to see his mother coming at him. She knocked him upside the head before he had a chance to even flinch.

"Ow, Mum!" he yelled. "Blimey, I thought you'd be happy!"

"Of course I'm happy!" she yelled back, beating him on the arm. "You waited a month to tell me! Here I am worrying about you every day and you wait a month to tell me that I shouldn't be worrying about how alone you are! Angelina, dear," she said, choking up as she turned to the young woman. She pulled Angelina into a hug, squeezing her so tightly that Angelina could feel her worries being relieved. "Thank goodness he finally got some sense in him! I've been trying to make him come to his senses for months!"

"What's going on?" Ron asked. He had just come downstairs with Hermione, Ginny, and Harry after they'd heard Molly's voice get louder.

"Criminy, Mum, let her breathe!" Ginny laughed. Molly sheepishly let go of Angelina and cupped her face.

"Thank you dear," she said quietly.

It was more of a scene than Angelina had expected, but she was glad that it was a positive scene. A small part of her had been afraid that Molly Weasley would have looked at her with scorn, like she was some harlot taking advantage of her grieving son. Or she might have been suspicious of the fact that she had now loved both of her twin sons. Mothers could be weird and protective like that. Instead she received nothing but the warmest acceptance from the Weasley family. When Bill and Fleur arrived, Molly excitedly told Fleur about the development. Even though all of George's siblings and their partners had known, Fleur acted as excited as possible and nearly knocked Angelina over when she hugged her. It was the beginning of a wonderful evening for Angelina, and the first of many family dinners as George's girlfriend. They finished out the evening in the living room with Harry, Ginny, Hermione and Ron like usual, drinking tea and butterbeer. Angelina could barely contain her happiness as she sat down on the couch next to George and snuggled into him.

They went back to his apartment that night, and as she fell asleep in his arms, she hoped this was only the beginning.


	17. Chapter 17

**AN: Since it's been so long since I've updated, I thought I'd treat you guys to a double update. Please please please review, I love it when you do!**

* * *

***Chapter 17***

"You two still haven't shagged? But you sleep together every night!" Katie said loudly enough to turn a few heads in the café. She blushed a little and lowered her voice. "What are you waiting for?"

Angelina smiled sheepishly and shrugged. They had been dating now for almost three months, but the most that she and George ever did was get really into their making out. Clothes came off regularly, but so far no sex had happened. She chalked it up to the fact that their relationship was still so new that they didn't want to scare each other…or themselves away.

"I don't really know," she said. "I know we both want to. It just hasn't happened."

"You know what you need," Alicia said. "You need a party. Parties are great because you spend the whole night talking to other people, and by the end of the night, you miss being alone with them so much that you can't wait to take your clothes off. It happens to me and Lee every time we go out, really. I mean, why do you think we're usually the first to leave? I get tired of talking to you two and seeing him talk to the boys and just want to be with him so much. Separation is like an aphrodisiac."

"But then why doesn't that happen when he spends the whole day at the shop and I don't see him 'til dinner?" Angelina asked, skeptical of this theory.

"Well because then you have other things to do, so you don't really think about it. Trust me, it's like this. At parties and when you go out, you can see them but you both are so busy all night talking to all your friends that you get tired of just looking at them and flirting with them in front of everyone that you want to be alone."

"That sounds silly," she said. "I don't need a party to want to sleep with George."

"Fine, you don't believe me? I'll prove it. We'll all go out this Friday and if it doesn't work, I'll eat my words." Alicia looked so smug that Angelina couldn't turn down the challenge. Leave it to a couple of old Quidditch players to find competition anywhere, she thought.

"Alright, you're on."

* * *

"You look gorgeous, love," George said, nuzzling her neck as she tried stood in front of his bedroom mirror styling her hair. She grinned and returned the affection with a kiss. She had tried to play it cool and dress herself like it was any other night. They went for drinks with their friends often enough that it was no big deal. She had laughed it off when he commented on her outfit being for something more special than a pub night.

As hard as she had tried to fight the urge to dress up, she couldn't help it. Earlier in the day she had been walking home from her lunch with George and passed a small clothing boutique with the most brilliant sapphire dress displayed in the window. It was modest enough for her tastes but still sexier than anything she owned. She paired it with her favorite pair of black boots, almost knocking George off his feet in the process. When he had walked into the room as she was putting it on and stopped dead in his tracks, she blushed. Now as she stood there with him behind her, his arms around her waist and kissing her neck, she began to feel that she had made a losing bet with Alicia.

"We need to go," she said reluctantly. To hell with spending all night waiting for the other foot to drop. With the way he was kissing her neck, she was ready to spend the whole night in bed with him starting now. She pooled all her willpower and pulled herself away from him to grab her little purse. George nodded, not wanting to go out either. They Apparated to the alley behind the pub and went in. As he watched her walk in front of him, he had no intention of making this a late night out.


	18. Chapter 18

**AN: Sorry for such a long long long delay in updating! Life has been crazy but I have my own working laptop again and can hopefully update a little more often! I hope you like the chapter and leave some reviews :)**

Chapter 18

"At this point, I don't know if I should tell you you're right or curse you for planting the damn notion in my head in the first place," Angelina said to Alicia as they stood at the bar getting drinks for the group. Alicia chuckled as she paid the bartender. They had been there for a couple hours and it had finally come around to being her round.

"You should thank me! So I planted a little idea in your head, and now you can't get it out. It's in your best interests, I promise!" She flinched a little as Angelina swatted her arm. They walked back to the table with drinks in hand laughing.

"What's the joke?" Oliver asked as the girls sat back down with their boyfriends. They both quickly denied there was any joke, which was good enough for him. He continued his story of his team's latest practice, where someone had broken the record for most Bludger hits in a minute. "I tell you that Wimbly is the greatest Beater in the league!"

The boys were rapt, loving every minute of Oliver's Quidditch stories. Lee had gone into professional Quidditch announcing after the war, and so he loved to hear about the players he commented on. And Oliver had been commenting on them for a while now. Angelina blushed as Alicia and Katie gave her not-so-sly smiles when they caught her staring at George, watching his brown eyes as they paid such focused attention to the story.

"Who fancies a dance?" Katie finally asked, breaking in before Oliver could start another story. She loved the man but knew that if she let him keep going, he'd talk all night about the glories of professional Quidditch. Oliver was put off by the interruption, but he quickly loosened up as she pulled him behind her to the dance floor. Alicia pulled Lee with her, glad to have a moment just between the two of them. Angelina turned to George and raised her eyebrows in proposal. George gave her a little nudge to get her to stand up out of their seat.

"As if I'd pass up a dance with you," he said, leaning close to her ear. She let him lead her to the dance floor, his hand around hers. They bounced around to a poppy beat for a minute or two before the upbeat gave way to the slowdown. As the music slowed and frantic pop instruments gave way to their calmer bluesy cousins, George wrapped his arms around Angelina's waist and pulled her into him. She matched him with her arms on his shoulders, idyllic hands draping against his neck. Their hips swayed to the tempo of the music. Angelina contentedly rested her head on his chest as he held her. She smiled with the realization that she might be able to prove Alicia wrong. It wasn't the separation she felt from George tonight that was making her want to get him home sooner. It was that no matter when they were talking to other people, she'd always felt this close to him. The way he moved in tune with her, the way his hands rested on her back like he would never let go…it was more than enough to make her want to go home with him right then.

They danced like that for two songs. Together they were in another world, not paying attention to the music or the other pub patrons around them. Angelina cursed under breath when she realized that if she slept with George when they got home, there'd be no way to prove to Alicia that she was wrong. On the other hand, if she didn't sleep with him, she was proving herself wrong. To hell with it, she thought. If she proving someone wrong tonight, she was at least going to get a good shag out of it too.

Having made up her mind, Angelina waited for an opportunity to leave. They'd all chipped in at least one round of drinks, danced several times and heard several of the same stories from Oliver a couple times. She finally found her chance when she noticed that the other girls were casually leaning their heads closer to the boys' shoulders, clearly making the move to appear tired and ready to go home. Angelina let out an exaggerated yawn and stood up in the middle of Oliver's rant about how he'd run a team if he had one again.

"Sorry, Wood, but I'm absolutely shattered. I'm afraid George has got to get me home before I fall asleep in this pub," she said. She tried not to grin when Alicia smirked at her clearly feigned exhaustion. George was oblivious but stood up regardless and handed Angelina her coat. The other couples agreed that it was getting quite late and it was time they all headed home. They all bid farewell with hugs and handshakes before making their way into the back alley to Apparate to their separate homes. Angelina giggled as she saw Katie and Alicia both wink at her just before disappearing.


	19. Chapter 19

**AN: Thanks for all the reviews! I hope you like this as much as you've liked every other chapter and tell me about it!**

***Chapter 19***

"Well that was a smashing good time if I do say so myself," George said as they landed in Angelina's flat. He slipped out of his shoes as Angelina did the same. He was a bit disappointed, seeing that she was so tired. Tonight would have been the perfect night were it not for the long-winded Quidditch musings of Oliver Wood that had apparently bored her to exhaustion. He resigned to waiting another night and headed into the bedroom to get ready for sleep while Angelina went into the loo to wash up.

George was laying in the bed his boxers when the door opened up to reveal Angelina in just her knickers. He sat up when he realized she wasn't looking for a sleep shirt to put on but instead was crawling into the bed toward him.

"You didn't actually think I was tired, did you?" she said in a sultry voice that sent a shiver down his spine.

"Well clearly I did," he replied. "You might have a career in acting if you ever quit reporting." Angelina smiled and leaned in to kiss him. Forgetting that he was at all nervous, George returned the kiss in earnest and pulled her closer to him. He held her close to him and flipped her on to her back in a quick, gentle turn.

George ran his hands along her smooth skin as he kissed her. He was gentle but she could feel the strength in his arms as he held her side and pressed himself closer to her. Angelina arched her back slightly as he moved his kisses from her lips to her neck. He moved along her collarbone before making a path back up her neck to find her lips again.

"Angelina," he whispered as he broke a kiss. "Are you certain we're both ready for this?" He needed to know that she wouldn't regret this in the morning. She looked into his eyes and smiled.

"George, I've never been more ready," she said. "I love you."

He felt his heart jump into his throat. He scanned her eyes for signs that she wasn't sure, that maybe she was putting on a show to make him feel more comfortable, but he could see that she wasn't. There was a calm and a certainty that hadn't always been there when he looked at her. Time to stop holding back.

"I love you too, Angelina," he said, kissing her again. They drew their bodies closer to each other and surrendered to themselves.

Angelina awoke with a sense of déjà vu and comfort that she felt every morning she woke up with George's arm draped across her stomach. They had woken up together countless times before; it made no difference that they were naked this time. She sighed contentedly and ran her hand gently along the arm that held her. She turned her head and smiled into the sleeping face of the man she loved.

George's eyes fluttered open slowly, until he caught sight of her smile and opened them widely. He smiled in return and nuzzled his face into her shoulder.

"Good morning," she said, kissing his head. He propped himself up on one arm and pulled her closer to him with the other.

"Good morning, beautiful," he replied before pulling her into a kiss. Angelina's body responded before her mind could; it curved itself into his and her lips parted just slightly. George responded with more hunger in his kiss and laid his body against hers. Before she knew it her leg was wrapping itself around him; she wrapped her arms around him so that her hands held the small of his back. She pulled him as close as she could; the full weight of his body was on top of her now. With a grin, he moved away from kissing her lips and made his way from shoulder to collarbone to breasts to stomach. Angelina let out a soft but audible moan as his hands roamed over her body and his lips kissed her all over.

"I could get used to waking up like this," she said in a silken tone that drove him crazy. He responded by returning to kiss her lips and running his hands along her side. George broke away from her mouth to look at her. They locked eyes as he entered her again and didn't break the eye contact until the pleasure was so much that Angelina closed her eyes, rolled her head back and dug her fingers into his shoulders.

* * *

Angelina was grateful that it was a Saturday. She and George didn't leave her bed until at least eleven; they'd woken up around eight. Finally showered and able to withstand the sight of each other without immediately jumping back into bed, they agreed that breakfast was a good next step for the day. George sent a letter to Ron asking him to either run the shop for the day or post a notice about being closed for the weekend. With his wedding fast approaching, Ron would likely post the Closed notice.

They walked down to a little café near Angelina's flat. They were the picture of any couple in love. They sat on the same side of their booth and only had eyes for each other. A year ago, Angelina would have looked upon such a display by any other couple as sickly and unpleasant to view. But now she wanted nothing more than to be as sickly sweet as possible while she and George enjoyed their breakfast.


	20. Chapter 20

**AN: Here you go, another chapter! I appreciate all the reviews, and I hope to see more!**

***Chapter 20***

"Good thing I wasn't hungry, you know," Alicia said as she poured herself another mug of tea in Angelina's kitchen Monday evening. "After all, I was completely right and it looks like I won't be eating my words at all!"

After breakfast on Saturday, Angelina and George had barely left her flat until Monday morning, when the real world called and reminded them of their responsibilities and lives. Until then it had been an amazing haze of shagging and snuggling and sleeping.

Katie and Angelina chuckled. Angelina had invited them over for dinner since George would be busy until later at the shop.

"Yes, well, you may have been right, but I'm still the one that got shagged," Angelina quipped. They cackled like women do when they share all the juicy details of romance with each other and each one knows exactly what the other means. Angelina had been gushing for an hour about how fantastic her weekend is, how amazing a lover George was, and how she had never felt so taken care of in her life.

"Angelina, I could not be happier for you," Katie said. She reached across and took Angelina's hand in hers. "You deserve to be taken care of. Both you and George do. I know I was pushy back when I wanted you two to get together, but it was really because I knew you needed to be together. I'm so glad, too. Think of how fantastic it will be now that we're all in love and on our way to happier futures!"

She squeezed Angelina's hand, and Angelina squeezed back. She hadn't really thought about the future yet, but she supposed it didn't seem so bad now to think about it. She had once only been concerned with getting through the next day, but now she wondered if maybe she could think about next year, or even the next five years. She was attending Ron and Hermione's wedding in a month, and shortly after the New Year would be Harry and Ginny's turn. Katie and Oliver's wedding was in February. She was sure by then she'd have even more weddings to attend. Lee and Alicia were more serious than ever, and it seemed as if Lee would pop the question any day now. They were getting older, the war was put behind them, and more and more of her classmates were bound to be getting engaged as time went on.

So where did that leave her? She wasn't quite sure. Alicia handed her some tea. Had she noticed her getting a bit panicked? If she had, she didn't show it. They continued chatting about their boys and their lives until George came home around ten and the other girls immediately found reasons that they needed to be home. George couldn't help but chuckle at their not so subtle exits.

"They didn't need to rush off like that," he said. "I must need a shower if I'm scaring them off within minutes of getting in."

"Oh you know how they can get," Angelina said as she cleared up the mugs from the coffee table. "Like hens, those two, when they get in a dilly talking about boys and life and all that mess."

"Boys, eh? I knew you had more than one of us to talk about," George laughed as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck. She set the mugs down in the sink and let him hold and kiss her. The whole time she'd been sitting there talking with her friends, she had been panicking, thinking about what the future meant and all the things she ought to consider. Was she going to be with George forever? It certainly felt like it. Should they get married sooner than later when all their friends were? What did the future even hold for them?

As she let herself be held and rocked there in her kitchen, she pushed away the panic. She had no idea if George had even thought about their future past the next weekend, so why should she get worked up about it tonight? Instead tonight she was going to enjoy going to bed with her boyfriend and waking up in the morning to his handsome face.


	21. Chapter 21

**AN: Sorry it's been a while - hope to see reviews on what you think!**

**Chapter 21**

"Picture perfect, Ron," George said as his younger brother emerged in his wedding robes. "Does Hermione know she's marrying such a stud? Someone ought to warn her, she might faint at the altar."

Ron was blushing, but he stood tall and looked at himself in the mirror across the room.

"They're a million times better than those ghastly Yule Ball robes Mum got for me at Hogwarts, you have to agree," Ron replied.

"Well I suppose if suave and clean-cut is the kind of look you're going for." The brothers chuckled at the memory of those god-awful robes. The other Weasley men trickled into the room, followed by Harry and Neville Longbottom.

"Another son getting married," Arthur mused. "Now if I can only get you lot married off," he said, glancing at Percy, George and Charlie, "your mother will finally be able to stop talking about weddings."

The boys laughed. Charlie was an eternal bachelor, so they knew their mum would never be able to stop talking about weddings until she accepted that he would also prefer the company of his dragons to any wife.

"Ron, it's time for us to go out there," Harry announced. "Ginny says you ought to take a few deep breaths."

"Why?" Ron asked nervously.

"You'll see," Harry said. With that, Neville led the procession out of the tent they were in to join with the bridesmaids.

They lined up by the altar and waited for the bride to enter. George kept his eye on Angelina, who was seated near his family in the second row. She had worn his favorite dress of hers, a gorgeous blue number that did wonders for every part of her body. They continued to make eyes at each other until finally the music announced that the bride had arrived.

Hermione was a ravishing sight in her wedding gown as she walked down the aisle, eyes locked on Ron's. With her hair done up in a simple but elegant style and a dress that framed her figure well, nobody could deny that she was indeed the most beautiful woman in the room that day. George grinned as he watched Ron's face. His younger brother was now breathing deeply. Ginny leaned over from the bridesmaids' side and whispered "Don't pass out, Ron."

The ceremony moved swiftly and the reception commenced shortly thereafter. When all the requisite bride-groom and parent dances had taken place, George took the opportunity to lead his girlfriend on to the dance floor and pulled her in close. They swayed to a slow romantic number among other couples of their friends.

"You know my mum hasn't stopped staring at us since we started dancing," he said quietly as they danced.

"She's probably waiting for you to do something inappropriate like grab my bum," Angelina joked. They both laughed—until he did grab her bum and she jumped. She smacked him playfully and gave him an attempt at a stern look. "You tosser, trying to get me in trouble with your mum?"

"Of course not," he said as he twirled her under his arm. She finished out the spin by returning to his arms. "I'm trying to get me in trouble with my mum. After all she adores you."

The song ended and she pulled him off the dance floor to get a drink.

"Well then I guess I'll have to make sure I don't get outrageously drunk and start snogging you in the middle of the party, so she can keep adoring me," Angelina teased, winking at him as she sipped her wine.

"Well at least I think I'd still adore you after that," George replied. "Speak of the devil, she just waved me over. Be back in a jiffy, love." He left to see what his mother wanted, but not before giving her another quick pat on the rump that made her blush.

By the end of the night, Angelina had danced with every member of the Weasley family and nearly every person who had anything to do with anything. She spent much of the night on George's arm, mingling with the various witches and wizards who were friendly with the Weasley family or important enough to be invited to the wedding of two of the wizarding world's most famous war heroes. She was thankful for the cushioning charm that made her shoes bearable for the entire night; how Muggle women wore heels without wanting to cut off their feet was beyond her.

Most of the guests retired at a reasonable hour, but the young people kept up the party until the wee hours of the morning. At one in the morning, when the food had all been cleared away and the remaining guests were content to sit and drink, Angelina had her feet propped up on one of the tables with a drink in hand. Hermione and Ginny were seated at the table with her. They watched as the boys all toasted to Ron and acted like the boisterous drunks they were.

"At least you know what you're marrying," Ginny laughed as Ron danced around drunkenly by himself.

"True, I can't admit I'm surprised that he got this drunk," Hermione replied. "I'm not going to ruin his fun though. He can pay for it in the morning. Boys will be boys, after all."

"Too true. And just imagine, you don't even have to Apparate out of his bedroom, so you can be there when he wakes up to poke fun at him," Ginny laughed. Angelina and Hermione laughed. Two weeks ago Angelina had been initiated into the exclusive club of girlfriends that "shared" Ginny's room when they spent the night with their boyfriends at the Burrow. She had pretended not to notice the knowing look that Molly had given her in the morning when she came into Ginny's room and both she and Hermione were wide awake in their beds.

"Blimey, after you and Harry get married, your mum will have to actually find somewhere else for me to 'sleep' when George and I are here," Angelina said with a chuckle.

"I'm sure Molly will fix up one of the other bedrooms for you. Charlie's rarely here, so you'll probably end up using his room," Hermione suggested.

"You ought to just marry him and then we can all actually sleep in and not have to worry about her catching any of us," Ginny said.

"Well that would be a silly reason to get married," Hermione said drunkenly, "but it would work!"

"Yea I suppose it would," Angelina said. She laughed at the idea, but it stayed with her for the rest of the night.

Around three in the morning, the girls were tired enough to drag their drunk men to bed and send the other guests home. They bid goodnight to Neville, Dean, Seamus and the rest of the remaining guests as they trickled out through the Floo. Angelina laughed as she noticed on her way up the stairs that Charlie hadn't actually gone to bed earlier but instead had passed out in a chair in the sitting room.


	22. Chapter 22

Almost two months passed, and the question of where things were going with George stayed in the back of Angelina's mind. The holidays passed like holidays do with family and festivities. The wizarding wedding of the century rolled around and Angelina found herself spending all her free time at the Burrow helping Molly and Hermione prepare things for the wedding. Ginny was there, but she wasn't always the biggest help when she was in full-fledged planning mode. She was a much better overseer than a helper.

Everyone that was anyone arrived to see the Boy Who Lived (Twice) get married. It was by far one of the biggest events that Angelina had ever attended. She was amazed at how sweet and personal the ceremony was despite the large crowd in attendance. It passed much like Ron and Hermione's wedding had, only with much more press taking pictures of all the guests and asking for comments on the marriage.

Toward the end of the night, George led her away from the reception and away from prying eyes.

"Care for a dance?" he asked, pulling her into his arms in the moonlight and twirling her about to the faint melody of the band inside the tent.

"Alright, but cast a spell, why don't you? It's frigid out here," she replied. He obliged with a warming charm and continued to dance.

"I wanted some time with you away from all those nosy buggers," he said. A few reporters had been bothering him all night for comments about his sister's marriage to Harry and their lives after the war.

"Of course," she said, giving him a peck on the cheek. "I'm impressed you didn't take out that one bloke with that quill that kept prodding you when you wouldn't answer."

"Well, I may have slipped a bit of a Puking Pastille in his drink when he wasn't looking." Angelina laughed and leaned against him as they danced. She was happy that he had really regained his sense of humor.

"Angelina?" George asked after they had danced quietly for a few minutes. She raised her head from his chest to look at him.

"Hm?" she responded. He stopped dancing and looked into her eyes.

"You are the best thing I could have ever asked for," he said. "I love you." Angelina leaned in and kissed him.

"I love you too, George. You're the best thing I could have asked for, too." She stepped closer, expecting him to dance with her again, but instead he took her hand into his and slid something on her hand.

"Marry me, then," he proposed, dropping down to his knee in front of her. "You got me through the darkest time in my life. I am grateful I have you every day. You are my best friend and I love you and I want to be with you forever."

Angelina was taken aback. She thought back to all the moments when she had gotten panicky about her future, when she had wondered if George wanted the same thing as her or if he'd even ever be ready for it. There was sincerity in his eyes now that told her just how much he wanted it and how ready he was. She dropped to her knees in the crispy wintery grass, warm from his charm, and kissed him.

"Then you've got me forever," she said. She barely caught his enormous smile before he lifted her up in a tight hug and swung her around. Her excited squeals must have caught the attention of some reporters. Flashes went off and it became apparent that they had an audience, so George set her down. Angelina smiled for the sake of the reporters as George pulled back into the wedding tent. His mum was waiting for him just beyond the crowd of photographers. Commotion didn't go on at one of her children's weddings without her knowing what was causing it.

She caught a glimpse of Angelina's hand, newly adorned with a beautiful sapphire engagement ring, and she gasped. Before Angelina could brace herself, the wind was knocked out of her as Molly hugged her fiercely.

"I knew it the moment he brought you for dinner," she said, wiping tears from her eyes. "Arthur! Come quickly and see!" She dragged Angelina by the hand and George quickly followed as his mother pulled his new fiancée around the wedding to announce to all their family and friends the news.

* * *

When the flurry of excitement over their engagement settled, Angelina was happy to let the attention return to the bride and groom. Molly nearly broke her rib cage hugging her several times. Arthur led a toast and the men of the family all clapped George on the back hard enough to leave a mark. Angelina managed to remain standing after being nearly attacked with hugs from her future sisters-in-law and friends. Finally, when she and George had begun to dance and all the congratulations were said, the reporters returned to Harry and Ginny and she was left alone with her fiancé.

Her mind rushed with all the things that typically fill a newly engaged woman's mind. When should they have the wedding? She would have to find a dress. And select bridesmaids. They'd most likely have the ceremony at the Burrow. Where were they going to live? She liked her flat quite a bit, but maybe George liked his too. They would have to choose, or find a new place to live together. She would have to tell her parents right away. She already had so much to plan.

As the night continued, they danced and drank and celebrated with their friends. As they finally said good night and went home to her flat, Angelina's mind was tired from all the wedding planning she'd been thinking about all night.

"Don't worry," Hermione whispered to her as she hugged her good night. "You've got that look I had when Ron asked me, but we'll help you with all the planning."

* * *

**AN: Sorry! I know it has been over 2 years since I updated this story. College graduation and then post-college adult life just got in the way, and now I'm finally settled in life enough to get back to this. I hope you enjoy. I will post the final chapters soon!**


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